Chapter 3 #2
Slow and achingly careful, Rohit’s hands dipped to the hem of Cynthia’s dress, and the rustle of the soft, red fabric hiking up her hips was the most erotic sound Cynthia had ever heard.
She rarely wore color—certainly nothing as bright as this—but it had seemed like the only logical choice when she’d found the dress in the back of her closet.
She’d wanted to feel different tonight, to shed the disappointment of never feeling like she was enough.
When she’d stepped into the Leprechaun Trap’s less-than-impressive interior, her clothing had felt like the wrong choice, but not anymore, especially when Rohit touched her bare thighs and uttered a rasped curse.
It was the first time, all night, that Cynthia had witnessed him losing his composure.
Confidence sizzled through her, burning all her former uncertainty to a crisp.
She felt so powerful yet so full of want in his hands, now moving insistently over her—almost clumsy but still worshipful—to push the crotch of her panties aside. He slipped a long, questioning finger inside, her slick wetness welcoming the invasion as her hips canted upward.
He takes direction well , Cynthia acknowledged faintly to herself before her thoughts splintered in a million different directions as he pumped once, his gaze riveted on her face.
She could only stare back, her left leg rising by its own volition to curve and hook around his waist, eliminating the last bit of space, and doubt, between them.
It also served to push his finger more deeply inside her and she shivered.
“Like this?” he murmured in a hushed voice, only slightly audible over the lush, wet sound of his finger meeting the rhythm of her eager hips.
“Yes.” Cynthia’s leg tightened around Rohit and her forehead dropped to his shoulder, letting him bear the burden of her weight as she practically writhed against that talented, seeking finger.
She hardly recognized this version of herself, following someone else’s lead and blatantly eager for where he might take her next.
She only cared for the exquisite sharpening inside her.
It was coming so fast, and for once in her life, she would welcome the sense of chaos building inside her with open arms.
She didn’t want to think—she wanted to come. Now.
“Can you handle more?” Rohit asked.
She loved that he asked as much as she loved how his other hand had snaked around to cup her bottom and hold her firmly against him, and she nodded against his shoulder.
Rohit added a second finger and the new fullness—coupled with his discovery of a particularly sensitive bundle of nerves inside her—jolted a hot flash behind Cynthia’s eyelids, and she closed her eyes and did something she couldn’t remember ever doing before during sex.
She moaned.
She moaned loudly , from a place deep in her chest. The raw, primal sound was such a far cry from her usual calm reserve that it was almost too honest, too desperate.
But she didn’t fucking care, especially when Rohit pressed his mouth to her damp temple and whispered, “You are so sexy.”
The ache sharpened inside her and Cynthia focused all her attention chasing this wonderful high as Rohit, still fully clothed, scraped his teeth against the sensitive skin behind her earlobe.
The gentle bite was enough to push her over the edge and she clung to him as heat burst through her, liquefying her bones in its wake.
His arm tightened around her as she shuddered against him, and even though she’d met him only a short while ago, Cynthia knew, without a doubt, that tonight he’d hold her up. Rohit wouldn’t let her fall.
When her orgasm subsided, Rohit’s hand retreated from between her thighs. Like her, he was breathing hard, and with his other hand, he gently tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear before cradling her jaw gently.
“I feel like the luckiest man in the world right now,” he said in a low voice that was equal parts thunderstruck and adoring.
His words caused a lovely little tug in her chest, but it was more than the pleasure of receiving such a compliment. Her feelings felt too big and baffling in this moment and she couldn’t resist leaning her cheek into the palm of his hand, nuzzling like a spoiled, contented cat.
She felt too bashful to say anything particularly profound or appropriate, so she settled on another truth instead. “I want you inside me again.”
Eagerness lit Rohit’s eyes, and his hand moved down her body once more, but Cynthia shook her head. “No, not like that,” she said, reaching for the front of his suit pants and giving him a bold squeeze. He was rock-hard.
Rohit’s groan sounded pained and his head dropped to her shoulder. “Damn it,” he said.
“What?” Cynthia asked, slowly unhooking her leg from around him. Her hands, though, were loath to let go, but the realization didn’t make her feel clingy. It felt right.
“I don’t have protection.” Even though his voice was muffled, Cynthia could hear the regret seeping through his words. “I didn’t think I’d be doing something like this tonight.” He jerked his head up and looked at her. “Not that we have to do anything else. I’m not assuming that we’re going to—”
Cynthia clapped her hand over his mouth, delighting in the little thrill that ran through her when his soft lips parted against the sensitive skin of her palm.
“We’re definitely going to do more,” she said.
“I have condoms.” The night might’ve been unexpected for her, too, but she was always, always prepared for anything.
Had he asked, she could’ve supplied floss, lip butter, disinfectant wipes, and ibuprofen, too.
When she pulled her hand away, Rohit’s neck corded. “You have condoms?” he asked in a strangled voice.
She couldn’t help but stiffen, preparing herself for the worst. She knew all too well that some men couldn’t handle a woman who took charge, who stayed a step ahead with more than enough slack to make up for a man’s shortcomings.
But Rohit leaned forward until his breath brushed against her parted lips. “You’re so…fierce,” he said. Awe coated his words. “It’s such a fucking turn-on.”
She turned him on. Impulsively, Cynthia curled her fingers into Rohit’s soft hair and closed the distance between them, pressing her lips against his, not caring if her tongue stealing into his mouth seemed desperate or if the arch of her back pushing her breasts into his chest betrayed the feelings of gratitude and relief coursing through her.
It was an unfiltered, almost sloppy kiss, and Cynthia threw every part of her being into it.
Her enthusiastic tongue against his seemed to be the last straw for Rohit’s self-control.
His hands tore at their clothing, first his and then hers, and before her brain could catch up with the lick of fire awakening every last nerve ending, Cynthia found herself flat on her back on the honeycomb bedspread, Rohit’s chest and stomach firm and defined under her palms, condom rolled on by both their hands, his skin warm against her greedy hands.
He smelled incredible—faintly fresh, and vibrant, like tangerines, and so very male—and with each ignited touch, Cynthia breathed deep as the heat in her rose higher and higher, eager to engulf them both.
And, once again, Rohit welcomed her flame.
Under his solid weight, there was no room to feel self-conscious of the whimpers building in her throat or the beads of sweat gathering at the nape of her neck, dampening the pillowcase beneath her.
Rohit worshipped her body so thoroughly, there was no room to think or plot her next move.
Cynthia could just feel .
And, God, she wanted to feel this forever.
He was tuned to every one of her bodily reactions.
When Cynthia bit her bottom lip, he lapped her nipple with the flat of his tongue again.
When she raised her hips, his thumb happily set up camp in that special, secret place just left of her clitoris that sent a delectable shock wave through her.
He sank into her with a groan that matched the hunger unfurling at her core. It was tight and full, and when he’d reached the hilt, he studied her face and tenderly brushed a lock of hair from her forehead. “This okay?”
Cynthia responded by lifting her hips and palming his lower back, drawing him tighter to her. “I think I’m close again.”
Rohit slid his hand between them to work her clit, and her body responded almost immediately by squeezing his cock tight. Satisfaction crossed his face as her inner muscles fluttered around him, and he scraped his teeth over the skin behind her ear again.
This man read her body like a book and Cynthia spread her legs wider as her second orgasm subsided, wanting him to memorize each and every subtle nuance hidden between the pages.
She’d slept with only two men prior to Rohit—one of which had been a yearlong relationship—and never once had it felt like this.
Never had she been worshipped from head to toe, every gasp and whimper chronicled and bookmarked for later.
Cynthia couldn’t blame the tequila for what came next: she sank her fingers into the thick, silky hair at the crown of Rohit’s head, pulled him down for a long, messy kiss, and said to him words she had never, ever said to anyone, whether naked or not:
“I need more.”
“More of this?” he asked, pumping hard and eliciting a moan from them both.
She kissed him again, sighing into his lips. “More of you .”
A look of wonder crossed his face. “Who are you?” he murmured before giving her exactly what she needed.